Never the Same
by StacyMcMissile
Summary: "Desk" agent Stacy Hughes is content as a nameless cog in the machine of the CHROME Agency, but fate has other plans. One day, notorius field agent Finn McMissile is assigned to her desk for a briefing and her life is changed forever. Rated T for language, mostly. Humanized. Finn x OC. (This is literally 5 years late I'm so sorry. My other fics will make sense now, I promise.)


**Alright. All systems go. We are finally ready.**

 **I've had this story in the works since 2013. I was 14. I've quite literally been waiting to post this for five years.**

 **So finally, after five years of rewriting, editing, planning, and awkwardly writing other fanfictions hoping that people can assume what this story is about based on relationships and interactions, _Never the Same_ is finally being brought into the light! In all it's embarrassing glory!**

 **If you've been following me for a while and couldn't tell already, this is the original story that lays the foundation of the relationship between Stacy and the rest of the spies/Finn, Holley, and Sid. It predates _The Legend of Stalker Siddeley_ and other nonsense, as well as all those ridiculous Christmas oneshots that don't make a whole lot of sense grouped together with the others.**

 **Okay.**

 **I've put this off for far too long.**

* * *

 **Stacy's POV**

Every day I watch agents of CHROME walk past my small desk in the corner of the large office space I worked. They come in different shapes, sizes, races… Men, women, experienced and scarred versus shiny and new, eager and reluctant…

And then there's me.

Stacy Hughes, desk agent. That's my official designation in the CHROME database. Since I was very young, I've lived under the roof of _something_ owned by the agency, thanks to the fact I've had no where else to go. I've often wondered why it was CHROME, specifically, that took me in. I was orphaned in America, after all. Wouldn't it make more sense to be working in some CIA agency right now?

At the expense of sounding incredibly depressing, my daily agenda consists of being ignored and looked down upon by most field agents that pass my desk—and also most of my peers. "Desk" agents were already pretty regularly patronized by most pompous "field" agents who were generally assigned a specific desk agent to give them rundowns and other information or technology for their missions. But I was… _Strange,_ to everyone. Just once, I'd like to be brought into the loop as to why. Do I hum to myself without realizing it? Have a nervous tick that drive people crazy? Or do they just flat out not care?

It's probably better this way. After all, there's a reason I work with computers all day instead of people. Never did get along with people too well—even if I _could_ become a field agent to potentially earn some respect from my peers, I would probably trip over my own two feet and die immediately. No, it's better this way.

Best to steer clear of that disaster.

Though, I suppose certain disasters have a way of finding you no matter how much you try to prepare.

"Hello." A smooth voice spoke off to the side, in front of my desk.

"One moment, please," I softly announced, as I quickly finished up the few lines that I was in the middle of typing on my laptop.

"Yes, of course." He replied. A British accent was the norm here—I paid it no mind.

With a final key clack, I spun my chair ninety degrees to face him. I hadn't noticed until now that just a second before, the entire floor fell silent with a hush—aside for a few high whispers, but I couldn't make them out. As for my poor heart, I think it had stopped.

"Agent Hughes?" The man cocked his head to the side slightly, patiently waiting an answer. I didn't trust my voice to work.

Pale blue suit, neatly combed black hair, suave mustache, exemplary spy skills, and the status as one of the best agents CHROME had to offer—ingredients for a Finn McMissile cocktail. And he was towering over me, standing right in front of my desk.

"Ms. Hughes?" He asked again.

I blinked out of my temporary trance and nodded. "Sorry," I managed to croak, then mentally kicked myself.

Finally, he smiled. It… made my stomach flutter. What the hell is _he_ doing _here_?! With _me_?!

"Had me worried for a moment," he lightly joked. "As fate would have it, I was sent to you for debriefing on my next assignment."

"Ye—yes, of course." I nodded. "One minute, then." Why? Why _here?_ Why _me?_ And why the _shit_ didn't I see a file in my email that said _Finn McMissile_? I should have _seen_ that!

Sure enough, once I opened the secure page, an email titled, "McMissile, Finn—Mission Briefing" was staring me right in the face. Well, better late than never.

While the file was preparing, I stole a glance at him. He was watching me with his bright, turquoise eyes. I looked away, quickly, but not before thinking to myself, _huh, what a lovely color…_

The office noise had picked back up again, but I doubted that absolutely everyone had stopped staring. It wasn't unusual for McMissile to be seen in this specific office, or anything—it was just that my desk was usually where agents came to for missions that they knew they'd dread—at least a little. He didn't look uncomfortable or impatient like other agents did, standing at my desk. I almost wish I didn't have to give him his mission. I wondered if the briefing I was downloading for the man in front of me would make him sigh in disappointment or frustration like they had so many others. I winced, thinking about it, mentally readying an apology.

I glanced back over at him, deciding to break the silence. "It's just about—"

"Oi, Finn!" A voice across the floor called, interrupting me. McMissile looked in the direction of the outburst, and the rest of the agents turned back to their work. A man was jogging past them all, wearing a black and silver pilot suit and waving as he approached. His uniform matched his windblown, messy black hair perfectly. He skidded to a stop.

"Hey," he breathed, brushing his hair out of his face. "Just about ready? Holley and I have gotten the jet all loaded up." He cheerfully told his colleague.

"I believe Ms. Hughes here was just telling me it was just about finished downloading, before you interrupted, Siddeley." Finn told him with an expression that was _almost_ disapproving—but mostly humorous.

"Ms. H—" Siddeley, as McMissile called him, paused to look over at me. I could see the discomfort flash in his eyes—here we go again.

Suddenly, he broke out into a grin. "Hey, you're the girl with the weird eyes, right?"

"The… Huh?"

"Well that's what I've _heard,_ anyway. They don't look very weird to me." He rambled on.

"Uh, t-thank you?"

"I mean, that wasn't _supposed_ to be a compliment, but yeah. You're welcome."

"Oh. Sorry."

He laughed. "Why are you apologizing?"

I wasn't sure what to say after that, so I awkwardly turned my attention back to Agent McMissile. "It's, uh, ready to download."

"Marvelous." He smiled, taking his tablet out—and again, I felt my heart skip a beat. It was so… Genuine. Was I _that_ used to people being curt with me?

"Okay but for real," Siddeley continued. "Why do people say you have weird eyes? What do they do? Did you inherit them?"

McMissile sighed. "Do drop the subject, won't you?"

"No, it's okay." I waved my hands a bit. "Um, I wouldn't know. I can't remember my parents all too well."

"Yeah? How come?" Siddeley tilted his head—not unlike a puppy.

"They're, uh… Sorta not alive anymore?" I awkwardly explained, expecting the routine: _Oh, um, I'm sorry to hear that._

But instead, without even really changing the look on his face, Siddeley suggested, "Orphan buddies?"

"Orph—? Uh, sure?" I tilted my own head, matching his.

He grinned. "Finn, we've got an orphan buddy!"

"For the last time, there's nothing good about being an orphan, Sid." Finn replied, not looking up from his company tablet.

"Yeah, but now we can form a group!"

Finn sighed and turned to his colleague. "What am I going to do with you…?"

Siddeley leaned over to look at McMissile's screen. "Order me to fly you to… Brazil? Hey! I can sing the _Brazil Here We Come_ song!" He exclaimed, sounding very excited about this. Whatever that was.

"Hey!" He continued. "Did you know that the snake from _Harry Potter_ sings the _Brazil Here We Come_ song, too?"

"Siddeley, just go get the jet ready…"

"But it is ready."

"Then… Go away." McMissile playfully swatted at his friend.

"Gah, fine, fine! I'll see you in a bit." Siddeley laughed. "See you, Weird Eyes." He lazily saluted in my direction, and made his way towards the door on the other end of the hall.

"…Weird Eyes…?" I murmured to myself.

Finn laughed. "Don't mind him. He's always like this."

"Always?"

"Always." McMissile repeated, a faint twinkle in his eyes as he looked into my own, then switched his gaze back down to the screen.

"Is, uh, is it all downloaded, yet?" I asked. I hoped he wouldn't blame me if it was taking too long.

"It has been for about a minute, now. Just thought you might like some company while I browse through it." He smiled.

"Oh!" I said involuntarily, feeling my face grow hot.

His smile deepened. "You're blushing."

"Am not…" I grumbled, looking away, as I felt my face grow warmer.

"Yes, you are." He chuckled. "Not very used to attention, eh?"

"Especially not from one of CHROME's best agents…" I murmured. McMissile chuckled once more, and I felt my face grow warmer still.

"Alright, then. I'm off to see if Sid's gotten himself into any trouble. Have a good day, now."

"Uh, you too… Good luck." Was all that I managed to say with all the thoughts running through my mind. It must have been enough, because with a final smile and wave as he walked away, and he was gone.

As soon as he was out of sight, I jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. I leaned over the counter and looked into the mirror to see that I had been blushing like crazy. I almost looked sick. I thought of his suave smile and blushed harder, still.

Closing my eyes and shaking my head, I slapped my palms on either side of the face and let out a groan. What the hell is wrong with me…?!

I splashed some cold water on my face and took a deep breath.

I would deny it for some time, but it was then that I realized for the first time that I had a crush on Finn McMissile. I ran my hand over my face and sighed.

" _Fuck,_ " I murmured to the empty bathroom.

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 **Ah, my liddol Russian lady. _Please._ Please, get me some _reviews._**


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